Obsession
by Lindinz
Summary: A very dark, very twisted spin on the mind of Draco Malfoy. ONE SHOT. AU.


Hi folks! This is my very first fanfic so i do hope you guys enjoy it! I decided to go for a rather twisted spin on Draco Malfoy - it was initially Blaise but i figured i might get more readers with Draco since he's more popular (guilty!). This was actually a piece i submitted as part of my Fiction Writing course at uni. Since the piece doesn't mention names, it can really be anyone. As for the female character - just use your imagination ;]

Oh, and please please please take the time to review my story *puppy dog eyes*. Since it's my first story submitted, my fanfic writing career may very well depend upon your reviews, so please be as honest as you can!

ENJOY!

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OBSESSION

By: Lindinz

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I stare across at her in her usual spot by the classroom window. She's wearing a knitted black turtle neck today, with a modest, grey knee length skirt. Between her skirt and boots, where there should have been a few inches of skin showing, she wore black opaque stockings. This was how she always dressed – modest and demure.

Sweeping my side-long gaze over to her face, I notice that she is not as attentive as she usually is; her attention divided between the teacher and the rainy scene outside the window. Her head is partly turned away from me, tilted towards the window. The rain falling on the window pane slightly distorts her reflection, turning her image into a Salvador Dali masterpiece.

She releases a barely perceptible sigh, the air pushing out the slight opening between her glossy lips to land on the window, forming a blurry patch. She looks her usual self today – her features flawless, save for an endearing mole high on her left, dimpled cheek. Watching her, I could almost imagine the aura of innocence and serenity surrounding her, shielding her like a cloak.

I hated the bitch.

Hardly a day goes by that I don't think about her. Her perfect face haunts my dreams. I wonder what she looks like under her prissy clothes. I see her in my shower, my newspaper, even my damned mailbox. In my dreams, I would take her in many positions – against my ornate cupboard, on my floor, on my dining table, under my dining table, on my balcony...

In one of my fondest dreams, I would drag her into my bathroom and take her from behind. I would hold her head in the bath tub while she fruitlessly thrashes around with all her might, her hands bound behind her naked back. In all my dreams she is tied up. I don't like them submissive because, really, what's the point? A bit of fear and pain always made things more interesting.

I lean closer to her, hoping to catch a hint of her usual scent – an elusive mixture of vanilla and woman. Whenever we pass in the hallway, I would catch a whiff of her scent and go a little crazy inside. It never fails to make me want to drag her by her perfect hair back into an empty toilet and mess her up. She never acknowledges me though, but that only makes it all the more sweeter when the time finally comes. She'll see me then.

Her face is a mask of carefree naivety, completely unaware of what feelings she inspires in me. How she sickens me, her persona so different from my own. So... untouched.

She really doesn't know how well I understand her. How I watch her, breathe her. She doesn't see me through her window as she takes her shower, doesn't know that I would sometimes watch her while she slept, while she changed her clothes, while she ate.

Her beauty enrages me. It fills me with longing and jealousy. How dare she be so perfect? No one is allowed to have such perfection in a world so riddled with hate.

But soon, soon I'll make her see. Make her see this world for what it really is. Break her of her innocence. I have taken it upon myself to do the job. To pull her down to my level.

Damned bitch. How dare she look down on me?

The class ends as the long hand signals the hour, the days of bells long past. I linger by the doorway, wanting to catch her scent again. It is my aphrodisiac.

She slowly turns my way and I hold my breath, hoping that she would finally look at me. But no; her gaze slides right over me as she smiles at another classmate. Something inside me snaps. How dare the stupid bint ignore me? How dare she not acknowledge my existence, when I know her so well?

Outwardly, I am calm. Let the world see what they want to see. I am the silent angel, ridding the world of freaks like _her_, restoring the balance. I don't need the glory, just the self satisfaction that I have done something right.

I let her out of my sight for now, as I go home to prepare.

Stepping in front of my mirror, I stare at my reflection in disgust. My body a grotesque picture of imperfection.

Soon... Soon I won't have to look at the mirror and compare myself to _her_. Soon she will be just like me, and the world will be right again.

I am jealous of her, and this shames me as I should not be aspiring to be such a freak. Her perfection is not normal. Still, I rummage through my drawer and pull out a lipstick; the exact same shade she wears. I smear the rouge color on my lips, making sure to go past the edges to make them appear fuller; like hers.

I pull on my long hair, fluffing it for good measure. Now I look pretty too. Now I look perfect. Just like her.

This is only temporary, of course. I want her to finally see me as an equal, before I make her normal like the rest of us.

She doesn't see me coming as I grab her from behind, securing her arms at her back, just like so many times in my dreams. She attempts to scream but I'd already taped her mouth. This is something different and it annoys me that I need to do it. In my dreams I would always let her scream, the sound a beautiful ringing in my ears.

She is a delicate thing, too weak to fight me. I rip off her clothes and take her as I sometimes did in my dreams. Her eyes are wide with fear and I know she finally acknowledges me.

_See me now, bitch?_

The bruises on her body still do not mar her perfection enough for my liking. I have a long scar running from my belly to my hip; a punishment from my childhood. It was only fair she got the same.

I continue my ministrations until feel her slowly grow limp. I find my completion and quickly step away, wanting to see all of her - my masterpiece. The red streaks running across her chest and down her thighs show brilliantly against her porcelain skin, the hatchings an echo of my own.

I rearrange her limbs under her red blanket so that she would be comfortable. I peel the tape from her mouth and neatly comb her hair away from her face. She looks so peaceful. It is probably from the knowledge that tomorrow she will wake up and finally be normal.

I quietly step out her front door, smiling at the world. Everything is now as it should be.

-END-


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